Photo by Isaac Quesada on Unsplash
Day 22: Simeon
“When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:
‘Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you may now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation…'” [Luke 2: 27b-30]
I remember holding my son for the first time and the world stopping. I didn’t have any prophecy of the future, but there was this hope that spread backward and forward. In this moment, everything leading up to him was worth it, and everything that would come after, no matter what that was, would be swaddled with hope. And this hope has remained, almost ten years later, through a diagnosis of autism and the bumps that come with it. But this is just a whisper of what Simeon must have felt.
Simeon’s faithful prayers resulted in one of the greatest honors of all time–being able to hold Salvation in his arms. Because Jesus is our Salvation. That baby tucked into his arms was the non-multiverse version of Everything Everywhere All At Once.
He was everything we needed to be saved, He accomplished it alone. We have done nothing to earn our salvation except believe in Jesus and what He did. That’s it. He is everything.
We know in Simeon’s story that the Holy Spirit was with Simeon, even before Jesus rose from the dead and sent the Holy Spirit to dwell with every believer. We are told that there is nothing that separates us from His love and His presence. Jesus is not limited by time or space. He is truly everywhere.
All our hope rested in that one tiny baby, who exists throughout time yet bound himself to the world for 30 years. On the cross, He saved all people throughout time all at once.
It is hard to wrap your brain around. The significance was so great that Simeon, upon seeing the face of Jesus, said he could die in peace, filled with the hope of a new beginning.
Lord, may we stop today and contemplate the weight of the One Simeon held in his arms all those years ago. The One who is worthy of having his birth, life, and death celebrated every day, everywhere, throughout time. Amen.
Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash
Day 23: Anna
“There was also a prophet, Anna, the daughter of Penuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was very old; she had lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, and then was a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying. Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.” [Luke 2: 36-38]
Anna is one of my favorite people mentioned in the story of Jesus’ birth. She represents my goals as a Christian. She is widowed, which in the time she lived was a struggle beyond imagining. But in her struggle, instead of pulling away, she draws nearer, to the point of remaining in the temple with her ear against the heart of God–faithfully listening even after 400 years of silence. When I go through hardship and loss, I want to respond as she does–worshiping night and day, fasting and praying. When I am in my eighties, I want to focus on the impact I can have in remaining faithful, giving thanks, and sharing stories of hope. And what a reward for her steadfastness! It says “coming up to them at that very moment”—her faithfulness put her in the right place at the right time to witness the greatest miracle of all time.
Lord, thank you for the example of Anna, faithful through all of life’s mountains and valleys. When life places us in difficult circumstances, help us to be Annas who draw nearer to you, putting us in a place to see miracles happen. Amen.
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash
Day 24: Jesus
“And the child grew and became strong; he was filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was on him.” [Luke 2:40]
Four hundred years of silence. Then the fervent prayers of a priest are answered, an angel appears announcing two miraculous births. The Holy Spirit speaks and guides a few faithful. Heavenly hosts appear to shepherds. Wise men give gifts that tell us who Jesus will be: King, one worthy of worship, who will die for our sins. All these actions have an equal and opposite reaction in Herod, who begins to murderously protect his throne.
It was truly a grand entrance, worthy of a king.
Throughout Luke 1 and 2, Jesus is called great, Son of Most High, Lord who will be given the throne, Son of God who will reign over Jacob’s descendants and whose kingdom will never end, horn of salvation, Savior, Messiah, Lord, Light of revelation and glory, one who will cause the falling and rising of many and who will reveal the thoughts of everyone’s hearts. Imagine all of this, our whole Salvation, swaddled, able to fit in a manger.
As I lay swaddled with my son on the couch, I am struck by the decision Jesus had to make. My son wants me right next to him. If I even shift, he wakes up and pulls me closer. Me being near to him gives him comfort as his body struggles to heal. But being near has its consequences. He is breathing directly on me, so I am *definitely* going to get whatever sickness this is.
Jesus couldn’t protect himself and take care of us the way we needed to be cared for.
He had to make a choice.
And that choice made him, the Son of the Most High, vulnerable. A baby in a manger, subject to all the struggles we face, whose love was greater than fear or self-preservation.
God does not cause hardships. He endures them with us.
Lord, as we celebrate receiving the gift of Jesus, help us to meditate on who He is and the choice he made for us, the choice you made for us because you are a loving Father. Help us to make that choice for each other, to be there in one another’s struggles, with love that is greater than fear, emboldened by our Savior. Amen.